


The Golden Years

by hinawa



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Old Age, Old Couple Au, perfectworldshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinawa/pseuds/hinawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Lysandre lives long enough that he and Sycamore are old geezers. Very hastily written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Golden Years

Augustine hadn't set his alarm clock in years, but the way the sun shone through the window told him enough. He propped himself up on one elbow and placed his free hand on the heavily slumbering form next to him.

"Darling, it's time to wake up and start our day," he said in a mock cheery voice. In reality, he would love to roll over, perhaps succumb to sleep for a few more hours. However, his new duties as the proprietor of a bed and breakfast solidified a fate of moving through the day while powered by cups of coffee.

The form next to Augustine groaned, rolling onto his back. He opened one eye and mumbled. "Why can't we take the day off?"

"You were the one who wanted to open this place remember?"

"What can I remember anymore?" He grunted as he sat up in bed, stretched out his back. "We're in our late sixties, we need to stop fooling ourselves about what we can and cannot do."

"Well, when you said we should retire to own a bed and breakfast in the Kalosian countryside, you made it sound so romantic."

He huffed. "It was for a while. If only that good for nothing son of ours could come help."

"We agreed to let Alain pursue his own dreams, Lysandre. He's discovering more about mega-evolution in his short time of being a professor than I could have ever hoped to."

Lysandre huffed. "Still, would it kill him to see his parents every once and a while?"

Augustine sighed. "I miss him as well. He is his own man now, though. We should respect that."

Lysandre placed two feet on the floor, sitting on the bed. "We should be getting up now," he said, promptly changing the subject.

"Yes," said Augustine, doing the same.  
\---  
Lysandre promptly gathered his clothes and padded off to the bathroom. He gazed up at the mirror. Normally he would pay it no mind, but on this day in particular, he found himself transfixed by the image that was reflected. There were more wrinkles across his face than he could count. His husband would call them little pet names like 'laughter-lines' and 'murkrow's feet', but to him, they seemed more like hideous reminders of the nature of time. There were no traces left of the red spikes on his head. A gray ponytail and beard sat in their place. He ran a hand over his face, as if it would magically return everything to their previous state.

Lysandre let his eyes close briefly, but before he could bring himself to be taken in by his thoughts, two arms snaked around his chest. He gasped for a moment, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"What are you doing?" asked Augustine, placing a head on his husband's shoulder. Lysandre could see how time took it's toll on the other as well, with hardly a trace of black hair left. Most, if not all of them, had been overtaken by gray. His face was also covered in the indentations of time.

"Just looking, I suppose," Lysandre sighed.

"What at?"

"I guess it's just hitting me," he says, turning to his husband. "When did we get so old?"

Augustine let out a laugh and wrapped his arms further around him. "Oh dear," he chuckled "we've been this way for a long time."

Lysandre's hard frown turned into a tiny grin when Augustine kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, you're still beautiful if that's what you're worried about."

The taller man let out a snort. "If it's any consolation, you are beautiful as well. More so every day."

"Ah, don't get so sentimental. I may just cry."

"Save it," Lysandre muttered, then planted a kiss on the other's lips.

 

'In another time or space,' he thought later 'perhaps I could have made a  
way to preserve only our most perfect selves forever.'

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it because if I wrote any more it would go into despair territory. No despair only fluff on the SS Furapura.


End file.
